Let the familiar judgment hang in the air like it always had.
This was what the town sounded like when it thought it was among its own.
And Luke had made himself part of that.
The realization pressed in slowly, sickening in its clarity.
This was what he’d been avoiding when he kept Grace hidden.
This casual cruelty. The ease with which people decided who deserved care and who didn’t.
He’d been protecting himself.
Protecting his name. His reputation. The quiet, unremarkable life he’d worked so hard to build.
He’d let her stand alone so he wouldn’t have to be uncomfortable.
Luke swallowed.
The report on his screen blurred. He blinked hard and refocused.
Across the room, Mercer laughed again and turned back to his desk, the conversation already over.
Just another Hart story filed away.
Luke’s jaw tightened.
If he’d chosen her openly—if he’d let the town see her beside him—he wouldn’t be sitting here absorbing this like it was weather.
He’d be allowed to react.
Allowed to be angry.
Allowed to saythat’s not who she is. But he’d made damn sure no one thought of Grace Hart as his.
So now he sat still and let her be reduced to a punchline.
The shame of it settled low and heavy. Dull. Persistent. Deserved.
Luke closed the report without saving.
The soft click of the mouse sounded louder than it should have.
He stood, chair scraping faintly against the floor, and reached for his jacket.
No one looked up.
He didn’t announce where he was going. Didn’t need an excuse.
As he headed for the door, one thought kept circling, relentless and unforgiving:
He hadn’t kept Grace safe by staying silent.
He’d just made it easier for everyone else not to care.
And if something happened to her—if one more person decided she was fair game because he’d helped make her invisible?—
Luke wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to look at himself again.
